The Women on John's Laptop
by Sherlockfan12
Summary: John is struggling to understand his sexuality, and as usual Sherlock is annoyingly astute. John was never expecting anything to come of his secret attraction, but Sherlock isn't going to let him get away with living in denial forever. Slash, suggestive but clean


**Author's Note:** _Yet another little fanfiction of how John and Sherlock might get together._

_I wasn't quite sure what to make of the line about borrowing John's Laptop to look at naked women in the episode A Scandal in Belgravia. I certainly don't see Sherlock wasting time on porn at any rate. And I also didn't care for the dominatrix version of Irene - personally I don't think that'd be either of their thing. I imagine Sherlock is mostly asexual, but would make an exception for John, perhaps more for John's sake than his own._

_-Obligatory Disclaimer -_

_These characters belong to the BBC show writers Moffat and Gatiss. This is just fanfiction, no profits made, blah blah blah. And my apologies for any fangirlish butcherings which have no doubt occurred herein._

* * *

**The Women on John's Laptop**

John's stomach churned. He felt disgusted. This wasn't working. He kept scrolling down the page, _oh God he wished he'd never seen that._

Suddenly he felt Sherlock behind him looking over his shoulder and jumped.

Before he could do it himself Sherlock snapped the screen shut, and furthermore came round to lean on the desk, partially sitting on his laptop.

"You're not the type to find that sort of thing interesting." He stated. John stared at him with his stomach in his throat.

Sherlock looked him up and down in his superior manner, "You're too normal and sweet for strange fetishes. You're clearly disturbed by it."

John gulped and blushed, his gaze dropping to his lap. _Had he just been called sweet?_ This was certainly awkward. He made to get up and end the conversation right then, but Sherlock caught him by the shoulders and he found himself unable to avoid his eyes. He was startled to find that Sherlock looked _concerned_ for him.

"John, I'm well acquainted with your internet history, you never look at things like that." Sherlock's eyes narrowed quizzically.

"I. . . I was just. . ." John knew he sounded lame and didn't bother to continue.

"You're honorable. You want an emotional connection, which makes casual sex and this kind of anonymous stimulation feel flat and dirty to you. So why. . .?"

"Look it's none of your b. . ."

"Oh I think it is." Sherlock interrupted him. He stared at John very seriously for a moment before he continued, as if waiting to see if he would speak for himself. John held his eyes with an empty kind of glare, bracing himself for the onslaught of analysis. Sherlock tilted his head and glanced up and down him as he thought aloud. "Could it be that you're worried about your waning interest in your dates and are desperately trying to convince yourself you're still turned on by women?"

John's stomach sunk and his defensiveness deflated. He was spot on, as usual.

Sherlock stepped closer, just a little too close, looking down at him with his hands still on John's shoulders preventing him from backing away. "But is there really any reason you need to be attracted to them, after all?" He raised one brow, staring at him pointedly.

John's breath caught, and he shrank back, unsure if Sherlock's suggestive proximity was supposed to influence his interpretation of what he meant.

At his continued silence Sherlock's expression grew scornful and he turned away to wander across the room, remarking in his characteristically careless manner. "I wouldn't be too worried, John. Sex is hardly necessary. If you've lost interest, so much the better."

"What do you know! Have you ever actually had it?" John blurted in annoyance.

Sherlock turned back to look at him sharply "Have you ever actually had it with a man?" he retorted.

John spluttered.

"Then how have you come to the conclusion that you could only ever want it with _women?_"

Sherlock stalked back towards him and John found himself backing up against the wall stammering, "But I don't. . .This is **not** your business!"

"I think it's very much my business, John," Sherlock leaned on the wall now too, looming over him "if you're going stare at me like that." He shot a glance at the laptop. "Don't think I haven't noticed." He snarled.

John shook his head, trembling, mentally scrambling to figure out what to answer. "No. . . I. . .I don't need to try everything to know what I. . ."

"I don't need to try everything to know what I think about it either." Sherlock regarded him with utmost hauteur as he straightened himself and turned away once more, still pinning John to the wall out of the corner of his eye. He turned down the hall leaving John leaning against the wall completely shaken. John stared after him.

He felt sick. He'd been struggling for months in confusion over his growing awkwardness on dates, his unwanted arousal around Sherlock. He'd been ignoring his feelings and thoughts on the matter, clinging to what he thought he knew about himself. He'd been determined to never let Sherlock, or anyone, find out. But Sherlock had seen through him completely. As always, it seemed he could have no secrets whatsoever from him. _No secrets. None whatsoever._ His heart beat faster.

He followed him. He didn't know why. Sherlock must have gone into his room, but the door was left open.

John stopped short in the doorway. Sherlock was. . . _changing his clothes?_ Odd. He glanced round at John over his shoulder, and John caught the barest hint of a knowing smirk.

His heart stopped. His mind stopped. He stared at Sherlock in apprehension, and then found himself speaking his realization aloud, "You don't need to, but you _would_ try it?"

"With you?" Sherlock glanced him over and snorted, his smirk growing broader. His tone was scoffing, but the glint in his eye said otherwise.

Now John felt there was nothing for it, so he stood his ground, "Yes, would you try it?"

Sherlock paused a moment, slowly straightening to his full height. He left off undoing his cuffs and strode in a careless but curious manner towards John, his shirt hanging open, his belt already removed. John inched inside the door where he could count on the full support of the wall while his knees threatened to give out. Asexual or not, everything about Sherlock from his clothes to his brilliance was very sexy, and now John suspected that he was well aware of this. Sherlock paused before him, letting his eyes rove slowly over John from head to toe. He felt himself sweating.

Sherlock leaned in closer over him, and touched his cheek, the look of concern back in his eyes. He spoke softly "John, I know part of you wants this, but do you really think we have the emotional connection you're looking for?" Again ambiguous in his tone, Sherlock was giving him an easy out once more.

He swallowed nervously, but his gaze was steady. _No secrets. _ "Yes." He breathed.

"Then we're not trying it." Sherlock said firmly turning away, . . .dropping his shirt from his shoulders, grabbing John's hand to yank him away from the wall and send him stumbling toward the bed. John found himself forced to sit as Sherlock crowded him, putting one knee on the bed and gasping John's shoulders. He stared down into John's eyes intently, his voice low and urgent, "We're doing it. This isn't causal. It's not just once. It's not for experimentation." He pushed John back as he crawled on top of him, one hand running through John's hair. He bent low and whispered in his ear. "This is because you love me, and you need to know that I love you too."


End file.
